


Crossed Wires

by FireMorning



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Body Swap, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:07:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireMorning/pseuds/FireMorning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton- New York, Foster Kid, High School Senior ready to graduate and go to college to kick the world's ass</p><p>John Laurens- South Carolina, Rich Kid, High School Senior trying to decide to follow his father's wishes or follow his own path</p><p>What happens when these strangers switch bodies?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter one! This first one gives us a bit of insight into Alexander's life, and the beginning of the switch!

There are ten things Alexander does before bed.

First, he would go downstairs into the living room and say goodnight to his foster parents. Martha and George Washington truly were amazing people. They had taken him in two years ago, after a very bad situation with his previous foster home. They didn’t get into that a lot though, everyone in the house knew better than to bring it up. The couple had managed to break through his defences, or rather, to get him to lower them. He trusted them like they were truly his parents. 

Just about every night, both of them would be doing one of a few things. 

Martha was normally either reading, sewing, or writing a letter. Martha and George were both a bit old fashioned when it came to some things, like writing letters to people rather than emails or anything. Not to say that they weren’t up to date about technology, but they both thought that some things (like letter writing) shouldn’t be forgotten just because of phones and computers. 

George was normally either grading papers or reading. The man was a history professor at the local college, and there always seemed to be a never ending stream of papers to grade. Alexander always knew that he wanted to go to King’s College, and the thought of so much writing thrilled him a bit. At school, there was always a teacher telling him to slow down, and to stay with the class. He couldn’t wait until Spring, until graduation.

So, his evening routine always started with going downstairs and telling them both goodnight. Usually verbally, but sometimes with an added kiss on the cheek for Martha and a hug for George. After that, he would go back upstairs to his room while the couple shared a fond expression about the boy they both adore like a son.

Second, he would check his school email and messages on his phone one last time. 

This particular night, he had a few different texts and a few emails from various colleges trying to get him to apply there, despite the fact that he had already gotten into his dream college. He would be starting and doing all of the classes he needed for law school, then become a lawyer. However, he had also been looking into political science. He always had wanted to change the world. Why not start with politics? Why not become the next president? Well, actually, he couldn’t do that since he wasn’t born in America. However, he could still do something great, if he sets his mind to it.

“Better be quicker next time, fuckos.” He mumbled in the general direction of the college emails as he deleted them, as if the sender of the emails could hear him.

However, his phone was a different story.

He had a couple messages from the group chat, first off. Scrolling through it seemed like much of the same. A bit of playful bickering, some accusations, Burr trying to flirt with Angelica and getting hilariously shut down. The usual. Lafayette had private messaged him about math homework, but that was followed with a ‘nvm, Herc’s got me’ and so he didn’t worry about that.

After sending out a ‘Im sleeping goodnight you filthy memes’ to the group, he plugged his phone in and put it face down on his nightstand.  
The third step of ten part plan for bed is rather simple, actually. It’s just putting on PJs.

His pajamas consisted of a pair of soft, amazing pants with cats on them that Hercules made him a few months back. The other teen had insisted it was because he wanted practice sewing and designing pajama pants, but Alexander thinks it might also have something to do with the fact that he mentioned needing new ones but not wanting to ask Martha and George about it. They’ve been his favorite ever since.

The shirt was an old one that he doesn’t quite remember where it came from. It’s old and soft from many, many wears. The logo on the front is so chipped and faded that it would be impossible to tell what exactly it was meant to say. His best guess is that he somehow stole it from Lafayette, but that’s still probably not true. He has stopped questioning it at this point, for the most part.

Lastly came taking out his contacts and putting on his glasses. They wouldn’t be on for long, but he also didn’t want to die by falling over in his room and cracking his skull. 

George and Martha realized after having him in their care for about a week that he was squinting. A lot. And that he would bump into things and sometimes have trouble reading. They took him to the eye doctor after that, and found out that he needed glasses. After a small debate about him thinking they didn’t need to spend money on him like that (he didn’t think that they would want him around for much longer at that point, and he still gets anxiety when they spend money on him) but they bought the glasses for him anyway. He got a pair of glasses and a box of contacts. He’s pretty sure Martha still has the video of him being amazed at tree leaves for the first time.

Fourth in his routine was checking his homework. It was more of a nervous habit, just flipping through his planner and making sure that all of the papers were there and all the problems done. He didn’t like not having his work done for school, and it doesn’t do good things to his grade when he doesn’t have the work done. 

Fifth on the checklist after checking his homework was a bit more unpredictable. He turned off the overhead light so that just the lamp on his bedside table remained lighting up the room. It cast a warm glow over the room, lighting up the walls and the posters on the walls and the pictures on the dresser. He made his way over to the bed and propped himself up on the pillows, picking up his phone and checking his messages one more time. He went through tumblr and twitter after that, not doing much but looking. After being content that he could go to bed knowing nothing major was happening, he put his phone down for good.

The sixth thing he normally did was lay down. Which doesn’t seem like much, but it is. Because laying down doesn’t just mean the action. Oh no. It’s a mental thing as well. Working to settle down from the day, thinking about what has happened and coming to peace with the day’s events. All the while he physically adjusted pillows and got under the blankets. Mentally though? He was lost in his own world.

That world always lead to step number seven. His own world would lead down the same path, every time. He couldn’t remember a night that he didn’t end up at step number seven, even if it wasn’t always step number seven. 

Even back when his ten part process was just trying to ignore how hard his bed was, or how hungry he was and how much he wished for food, he always ended up doing one thing, ever since he was twelve years old.  
He would speak to his mother.

Not for a long time, usually. Just a small update on his day and his life and all. He had come (Mostly) to peace with what happened to his mother. It was a long time ago, and he had worked hard to get over it. He had never forgotten his mother though. Instead he sets aside this time of the day to speak to her.

Step eight was quick and simple. Just checking his alarm. George and Martha would never let him be late for school. They would always wake him up. Before they got used to his odd patterns they would try to every morning before catching onto the fact that he would always be awake and dressed. He liked waking up early. Getting a good, early start to avoid being rushed. Plus, the morning was always nice. Being out and about before anyone else, only him and the rising sun and the birds.

One of the very last parts of his process, number nine, was to turn off the lamp. He would reach up and go as quick as he can. The metal switch on the lamp was always stupidly hot and he usually, despite his best efforts, would end up with lightly burned fingertips. None the less, the light would always end up off and the room completely dark, save for the moonlight streaming in through the blinds.

Ten. Part ten was quite honestly the easiest part of all. Just simply closing his eyes, and drifting off to sleep.

~~

The birds sounded weird. 

That was the first thing Alexander registered upon waking up. The birds around his house always had a very, very distinctive chirp. He had come to know and love the birds chirping outside his window every morning. It provided a nice background noise for him to start his day with. And whatever birds were currently outside his window? They were not his birds. 

The next thing he noticed, without even having to open his eyes, is that he slept in late. The sunlight in the room was too bright to be anything else. It was a Saturday, so it wasn’t like it was too big of a deal over all. But it still annoyed him. He usually liked to wake up at 5 am to get a good start on the day. His guess (without opening his eyes) is that it was probably about 8 am. He started wondering if the power went off in the night, since that seems to be the only reason for his alarm not to have gone off. If so, he wants to check if his phone charged. 

He rolled over, not daring to open his eyes in fear of the light that will bring in, and tangled his legs in the sheets as he did so. Upon rolling far enough, he reached out and smacked his hand on the bedside table, only to send something crashing to the ground. That startled him. The only things on his bedside table are his lamp, his glasses, and his phone. Whatever he knocked over felt distinctively cup like. And, said cup didn’t shatter upon hitting the wooden floor of his bedroom. In fact, it didn’t make more than a dull thud. Like….like it was hitting carpet. Hitting a carpet in his completely hardwood floor bedroom. Now that was enough to get him to shoot up in bed.

The room really wasn’t what one would call a scary place. The walls were a warm, pastel yellow color with a dark blue trim. And there were posters plastered on one wall, showing that the room was clearly lived in. And it looked lived in by someone around his age, based on the bands in the posters. It didn’t exactly scream kidnappy serial killer to him. If anything it felt more like waking up at a friend’s house after a sleepover.

Except it’s a sleepover he never agreed to go to and the friend isn’t currently around. 

He pushed the blankets off his legs and looked down at the glass, finding it unbroken and safe on the plush, clean looking carpet covering the entire room’s floor. It looked like the glass was empty when it got knocked over, so the dark blue carpet is saved from a soggy fate.

He props himself up on his hands and sighs, blowing a bit of air from his mouth to get a curl out of his eyes. He closed his eyes after that, reasoning that this is just a weird, oddly vivid dream. That’s when it hit him though.

He doesn’t have curly hair.

He jumps out of the unfamiliar bed at light speed then, probably setting some kind of speed record as he dashes to the slightly ajar door on the other side of the room. As he suspected, the room was a small bathroom. Hitting the lights, he placed both hands on the counter and stared at the unfamiliar face.

Looking at someone else’s face where your’s is supposed to be is a dizzying experience. His mind knew that whoever he was looking at isn’t him. But all logic dictates that it is in fact, him. He is standing there, after all. And since he is standing there that means that he is the body that he is looking at. But he knows that isn’t true. 

It’s a mess of logic that is already making his head hurt so he strays away from that, instead looking closer at the body that he’s occupying. And he’s gotta say, not bad. Not bad at all.

The hair he was blowing out of his face turns out to be shoulder length and dark. Most of it is held back in a tie, but it seems that some of it had come loose over the night. A few stands hung by his face, framing the absolutely precious face. Pretty green eyes and freckles, and currently causing a moral dilemma. Is it immoral to be attracted to a body one occupies? Even if one has only been occupying the body for about ten minutes and doesn’t belong in the body?

He took a step back then, getting a better look at the rest of the body. A bit shorter than he’s used to, but it works for this body. The body is wearing an oversized hoodie with a college name fading on it, and some sweatpants. Pretty standard, and he’s lucky that whoever this body belongs to doesn’t sleep in the nude.

He is still staring intently at himself in the mirror when there’s a small knock at the bedroom door, and then the door opens. He starts, acting without thinking and slamming the bathroom door. It’s loud and probably just causes more suspicion than if he asked whoever it was to go away.

Soft footsteps approached the bathroom door, and he heard a girl’s voice on the other side.

“Jack? Are you alright? I heard running earlier and got worried. And you know dad doesn’t like it when we slam the doors. He’s out right now though, so you’re probably fine.” The girl spoke, clearly worried. A sister, he assumes. She seems to be in her teens as well, and he’ll need a good excuse to stay away from others for a while. But, at least he has a name now. Jack. 

“I...uh” He trails off, getting another strange feeling when he speaks but he hears another person’s voice. Said voice has a Southern drawl, which gives him a bit of a heads up on where he might be. A good warning on the way the people around him think. “I’m fine. Well, no I’m not. I’m not feeling very well, actually. So, uh, you can probably leave me alone now.”

Silence from the other side of the door. He doesn’t blame her. Calling that lie weak would be an understatement. But, it was the best he’s got. And pretty good for someone who woke up in another person’s body.

“....Alright. I’ll tell dad when he gets home. He’ll probably come up and check on you.” The girl didn’t walk away immediately, seeming to think about adding something else before just walking away. He let out a sigh of relief, sliding down against the door. When he heard the bedroom door close, he allowed himself up and to open the bathroom door.

He walked out, looking around the room and noticing a few things. The first one being how clean the room is. It’s not that Martha and George were hard on him when it came to his room, though they expected it to be livable and not growing any mold anywhere, but this is something else. It’s like there’s nothing out of place. Not even a lot of dust anywhere. The only messy place was the bed that he got out of earlier. He makes a mental note to straighten it up.

The next thing he noticed was that everything looked pretty expensive. Nothing made out of cheap wood or plastic. He really should’ve gathered that from the bathroom that the bedroom had attached though. He couldn’t say that he minded too much when he flopped back onto the unmade bed and picked up a phone from the bedside table.

The phone also looked expensive and, luckily for him, has a thumb scan lock. He turned on the screen and pressed his thumb to it, humming a little tune as it processed his (or Jack’s, rather) thumbprint.

The phone had two full pages of apps. One of the ones that drew him instantly was the kitty collecting game. What kind of person would he be if he didn’t help Jack out with the cats? A monster, that’s what he would be. After feeding the cats, he looked through the rest of the apps. Sure, he felt bad looking through another person’s phone. But, it was for the greater good.

How was he supposed to keep up this charade if he didn’t know WHO he was pretending to be? He didn’t know a lot about Jack besides a name. He also knew Jack’s family had money, that he likes Fall Out Boy, that he has one sister (possibly more), and a father. Nothing much beyond that. He needs to know more. He needs to know friends, personality, sense of humor, political views, twitter handle. More and more things came into his mind as he thought it all out, and he decided to start at the easiest place. 

“Well Jacky boy.” He muttered to himself, pulling up the messages in Jack’s phone. “Let’s do a bit of research on you, shall we?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's POV now! Sorry for the long wait, school has been kicking my ass and I've just now been in a good spot to write it.

The shrill ring of the bell was almost painful after almost falling asleep through all of Literature of the Bible class.

John had sat there for an hour, his chin resting on his hands as Mr. Baker droned on and on about how the fall of Adam and Eve is directly related to some book he has never heard of or cared about. Of course the one class he didn’t have either of his friends in would just have to be the one with the most boring, god awful subject and teacher.

It didn’t help at all that his assigned seat was right under the stone age era bell that is in this classroom. Because of course they put his most hated class in his most hated building. They called it ‘historic’ and even pointed it out when people came on tours. ‘It’s been around since the civil war’ they would say. ‘It was a confederate hospital’ they always followed up with that, saying it with pride. Ah yes, tell us all more about how people who were fighting to own other people used this place as a hospital.

However, the ear piercing shriek of the bell was his permission to get up and go. The only good thing about Mr. Baker is that he knows that in a class full of seniors, a class full of people old enough to go off into the world and vote and live their lives, it’s better to spare them the ‘I dismiss you, not the bell’ talk. The ringing of the bell also meant that he was now free to go up to lunch and spend time with his friends.

He had a lot of people that were half friends with him. People that he can stand and even get along with from time to time if there’s no one else around. People that he considers saying yes to and sometimes even does say yes to when they ask if he wants to go to see a movie or go to the mall or something. But they aren’t really friends. They don’t know him like his two, close friends know him. 

The first close friend is James Madison. Or, as he is known as in John’s phone, Jem Jam. Sometimes, when they’re trying to be obnoxious, James is also Jimmy, Lil’ Jim, or Jammy. They had been friends since they were young, both being the children of Southern politicians and the same age and living in two high class, way too fancy, gated neighborhoods that are close to each other. Even though that still means at twenty minute walk or, more likely, a drive. He’s learned from being friends or half friends with rich people and, by extension, being a rich person himself, that rich people love their space.

The other friend was one Thomas Jefferson. Thomas is...a piece of work sometimes. They’re friends, yes, but his friend can also be a total ass sometimes. He’s been working on that ever since freshmen year when Thomas moved to the same neighborhood and school he lives in. Thomas sometimes makes an effort, and he appreciates that, but he has also gone off on Thomas about three times a month for the past year for various things. Still…

It is extremely hard to find other gay people in a small, private school. It’s honestly a miracle he has two. And he only knows that because he and James found out around the same time. That’s actually a kind of funny story. They both were freaking out about coming out to each other, or really being gay at all. And they both blurted it out to each other. At pretty much the same time. It was almost laughable, in all honesty. Ever since then they had been closer than ever, taking a sort of comfort in the other whenever their families were being shit.

He doesn’t think that he would ever date James though. They’re more like brothers, if anything. 

Finding out Thomas was gay wasn’t exactly a struggle. As much as John didn’t like stereotypes, no straight man dresses like that. Not that he doesn’t love Thomas’ unique style, but it was pretty much a dead give away.

Now they’re all seniors, and he’s planning on getting the fuck out of dodge the instant he graduates. He’s going to go to college in New York, finish the normal four years, then the years of medical school, get a job, and then he’s going to come out to his dad and be independant. He has it all planned out. He would say fuck off to his dad the instant he graduates from high school, but he needs that money to go to college on. So, until he finds himself in a stable job that he can support himself on, he’s gonna have to play straight for a little bit longer.

Once he is in the cafeteria he makes his way over to where they usually sit, smiling when he sees his friends are already there. They both have English before this, so they always walk to lunch together. He sits down and sighs, putting his head down on the table as he was patted on the back.

“If I die it’s because Mr. Baker killed me with the bible.” He mutters, just loud enough for his friends to hear.

“Well, it’s still a wonder you don’t burst into flames every time he reads passages. I feel like we should all be grateful you’re still with us.” James said, being the one patting him gently.

“He’s already flaming, James.” Thomas joked from the other side of James, and even though he can’t see it, John knows he has that shit eating grin as he spoke and after. 

At that, John lifted up his head and grinned at Thomas. 

“You’re one to talk there. I’m a good Christian man with a wife and seven children, probably.” He started to relax from a tiring day as he joked with his friends. The second half of the day was always easier, after he had eaten and relaxed a bit. And because James and Thomas are both in his last classes of the day.

They spent the rest of the day off in their own world, for the most part. Sometimes people would try to approach and hang around them, but those people would also end up leaving rather quickly. He knows that him and his friends are...a lot sometimes. Honestly they’re easier to deal with when they’re not united. Their small group chat of three people is lovingly named ‘The Gay Triforce’ and he cherishes that group chat, especially when he has to go home.

He has a car, so he doesn’t have to ride the bus or hitch a ride with anyone at the end of the day. He just goes down to the parking lot and drives off. No waiting for anyone, and no stupid buses. He drives for about twenty minutes before he reaches the large, gated neighborhood. Well, the actual neighborhood wasn’t that large. It just covered a lot of space. People with big houses also like having a lot of land surrounding their big houses. So, even though it covered so much space, there wasn’t actually that many houses.

Once he had parked his car he got out and went through the back entrance of the house, not feeling like walking all the way around to the front. Instead he used his key on the back door and went inside. After listening for a minute he determined that no one else was home yet, and if they were they were in their rooms and being quite. He figured that was the all clear for him to freely walk up to his room without having to say hello or get into any kind of conversation.

He did nothing except play on his phone and do homework for the better part of the afternoon. He had a system down for his homework in the afternoons that got him through it as quick as possible. He would always start with five minutes on his phone, that was a good way to prep him for what is to come. And then he starts with the hardest or longest assignments. Every time he finishes one he gives himself a break of ten minutes on his phone before moving to the next longest and hardest piece of homework. All of that until he’s done. And giving himself small breaks or rewards each time.

He did that for the afternoon and put all the finished work in his bag before putting the bag by his bedroom door. He wasn’t going to get a late or missing grade because his dumb ass doesn’t put finished work where it goes. That’s a mistake freshmen John would make. Not senior John. Senior John is wise because of his mistakes and doesn’t intend to make them again.

His night was pretty standard, actually. A family dinner, talking about this that and the other. Watching a movie with his siblings, and then going up to his room. He got ready for bed in the small bathroom attached to his room (or as he likes to call it when his siblings complain about him having a personal bathroom, ‘the perks of being the oldest child’) and he fell into his bed. 

He noticed that the cup he usually kept full of water on his bedside table was empty, but the bathroom was so horribly far away and it’s not like he was going to die of thirst in the night. He took a moment to check his phone (the last message in the group being ‘im a gay gay gay sinner’ via Thomas) and then he put it face down on the table, wedged in between the mess of things he has on his nightstand. He really needs to clean it up. Someone (him) is going to knock something down one of these days.

He falls asleep then, after turning off his lap and pulling the blankets up so far they cover his head and only his nose sticks out so he can breath. That’s always how he’s liked to sleep and he can’t exactly explain it, even more so because he always wakes up in the morning out of that position. Oh well.

~~

John is fairly sure that he doesn’t set alarms in his sleep. He’s has good evidence for this, seeing as he has in fact never sleep set an alarm before and to his knowledge doesn’t have any conditions that would make him want to set alarms in his sleep. Especially on a Saturday morning. One of the days he gets to sleep in and chill because no one bothers him without cause. However, he still seems to be woken up by an alarm on his phone.

He is also trying to remember when he changed his alarm tone. Instead of his normal, more relaxing weekday wake up call it’s a shrill beep. One that is unpleasant and will give him a headache if it keeps going like this. So, with great reluctance, he pushes himself up out of bed and opens his eyes.

Shit.

This isn’t his room. Or a room of a friend. And that’s not his phone and he is very sure that he doesn’t own a cat that is sitting on the foot of the bed. And so, being the graceful and poised young man that he is, he flails and falls out of bed. He lands with a loud thud on the ground that he hopes that the others (if there are others) in the house didn’t hear. 

He’s pretty sure that if anything, he’s been kidnapped. Which scares him pretty bad. That’s mainly because he was sleeping in his room, in his home, and he’s pretty sure that the door to his bedroom was locked. 

However, this doesn’t seem like a kidnapping. It seems more like he’s waking up in someone else’s room. But like he’s supposed to be there. After all, it doesn’t seem to be like a room someone would but another person they kidnapped in. There’s all sorts of personal articles, clothes piled in and around a hamper in the corner, papers on the floor and around the desk, a computer, shoes on the floor. He’s pretty sure there’s a poster that he also owns on the far wall but he’s having a bit of trouble seeing that, for some reason. It’s a normal looking room. But not one he has ever been in before. 

Deciding to deal with the stupid alarm and find out where the hell he actually is, he leans over and grabs the phone. It’s simple to press the snooze button and put the phone back down, and that’s the easier of his problems dealt with. He puts the phone back down then, and decides to deal with the more pressing, stressful matter.

He makes a small, surprised noise when his previously warm feet hit the cold, wooden floor of this room. His own room is carpeted, so he had forgotten what cold wood on the feet first thing in the morning feels like. After he deals with the coldness on his feet he gets up, walking over to the mirror over the wardrobe to see if he’s hurt or anything. 

When he looks in the mirror though, he nearly screams. Actually, he does scream. He screams but he bites down on his palm while he does it. After the scream dies out he takes a closer look, hands (his whole body, really) shaking as he places his palms down on the dresser and looks in the mirror that hangs just above.

The face staring back at him is not his own. Not a bad face, but not his face. Long hair pulled back into a ponytail that had come loose in the night, brown eyes, tan skin. Pretty good looking, if he does say so himself. He thinks that whoever’s body he’s in also is a little taller than him. He turns his face from side to side, observing and trying to push down the rising panic.

It’s not exactly normal to wake up in another person’s body. He’s not thinking about that too much though. He’s pretty sure that if he thinks about it anymore than ‘it is a bit strange’ then he’s going to pass out or have a heart attack or something. So instead he slowly walks away from the dresser and out of the room. 

He sees that he’s in the last room of a hallway and that there’s a flight of stairs at the end. He hears people downstairs and decides to make his way there, only stumbling a few times as he gets used to his new body. He almost does fall down the stairs though. 

He follows the sounds of people to the living room, where people who he would say are the person who’s body he is currently in’s parents. He really is hoping for a name, and luckily the gods smile upon him and give him one.

“Good morning, Alexander. You’re up later than normal. Bad night’s sleep?” The woman says, looking up from her book and smiling at him. He gave an awkward smile back, and even waved. He could see both of them thinking that the way he suddenly stopped short, not even quite entering the room, was weird. And how stiff he is. He then remembers that he was in fact asked a question, so he spoke.

“I uh, yeah! I slept fine. It’s a Saturday though, right? Might as well sleep in!” He can tell by the look the two people shared that he didn’t say the right thing. He knew that when he was saying it. He had been a bit too loud, a bit too happy, and something about the way they two are acting makes him feel like Alexander doesn’t sleep much. 

“Alexander?” The man said, looking a bit concerned. “Are you feeling alright?” 

He decided then was a good time to make an exit before he had to be taken to the doctor or something. 

“Oh yeah, I’m fine dad! I’m just gonna go back to bed okay? Later!” He then took off sprinting up the stairs. Not exactly a graceful or inconspicuous exit, but at least he is now safe at the top of the stairs. He stops to listen to make sure he isn’t being followed then, but all he hears is soft talking. He thinks he hears one voice say ‘did he call you dad?’ in slight amazement, but he can’t be completely sure.

He walks back to the room he was in before, Alexander’s bedroom, and makes his way to the bed. He sits back down and puts his cold feet back under the covers, glad that there is still a bit of warmth from where he...or Alexander? He really isn’t sure at this point.

He picks up the phone he previously used to turn off the alarm and powers it up, sighing when he sees that, of course, Alexander has a lock. He starts chewing on his lip as he thinks about it, zoning out a bit when muscle memory seems to kick in. His thumb presses the right buttons, an almost comical number of 1776, which he should’ve figured out from the history books on the revolutionary war period and even a poster on the wall.

“I’m in.” He says to himself, letting out a little giggle as he does so. He saw that there was missed messages and so he started with pulling that up. There was an odd title to begin with, it being ‘The Succ Discourse’. He clicked on that first, deciding it would be the best place to start about finding out who’s body he is in and said person’s friends.

The most recent message was from one ‘laffybae’ and it said ‘so we’ve come to the conclusion that, in his spare time, Burr gives 12finity succ’ 

“This will be fun.” He mutters to himself as he starts typing out a message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things:
> 
> 1) Yes I know that it is strange that Laurens is friends with James Madison and Thomas Jefferson but he needed friends and they're all southern so bear with me here.
> 
> 2) Hopefully the chapters to come won't have such rambling beginnings. I've been trying to give Alexander and Laurens some backstory before we get into the main plot
> 
> 3) I'm very smol and I don't know how muscle memory works 
> 
> 4) the '12finity succ' is actually something from a group chat I'm in
> 
> 5) Next chapter will be back to Alexander's POV! It'll switch in between unless I feel the need to stay with one of them for two chapters.


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So sorry about the long wait for this chapter! It's actually been sitting 3/4th of the way finished for a while, and I've finally gotten around to finishing it up! Back to Alexander's point of view, and we see more about Laurens' friends! A slight warning for child abuse in this chapter.

Alexander had been going through his, er, Jack's phone for about ten minutes when he had gotten a message. One from the supposed group chat that Jack was in. He hadn't gone near that yet. Being in one himself, he knew better than to go near someone else's. At least, not first thing. He had gone through Jack's twitter (as much as he could) and looked through pictures, and he got the distinct feeling that one of the people in many of the pictures on Jack's phone was familiar.

The message was from one 'Macaroni Man', and Alexander couldn't help but laugh a bit at it.

Macaroni Man: im just saying @jemmy u gotta get on becoming a scientific genius (more than u already are) and make a cloning machine bc im so damn beautiful no one is going to be able to look good enough next to me

Alexander was tempted to type out something along the lines of 'relatable' or 'me', but he decided to let the other people (person?) in the chat reply first. He didn't have to wait long, it seemed, since he got the notification that one 'jem jamer' was typing.

Jem Jamer: thomas you are literally so far up ur own ass

Jem Jamer: also @john and i guess thomas (if he aint too busy looking at himself) too, are we still meeting up in an hour y/n

Alexander felt a wave of panic go through him. He knew that Jack (John?) probably made a promise to go out with friends, and he doesn't want to mess that up for the guy. The pressure was on even more when Thomas responded yes, and he decided to act.

A simple turtle: sounds A+ my dudes

The lack of response should've told him that something wasn't quite right, but even if he wasn't observant enough to pick that up, he was observant enough to pick up the next message.

Macaroni Man: john literally what kind of meme loving shit was that

Jem Jamer: 'my dudes' im cryin

Macaroni Man: john has been possessed by a disgusting meme lover

Alexander could feel his heart rate speeding up. He knew that they were just joking, but how long would he be able to keep this up? He didn't know anything about John's personality (Twitter hadn't told him much, but it seemed a bit censored if he was being honest) and had absolutely no idea of John typed or talked.

What if he went into school on Monday (if he was still in this situation by Monday) and he suddenly started making great grades? Or what if he accidentally outed John? He had guessed that John was in fact not straight based on the group chat title, but what if no one else knew that? Christ, this was too damn stressful.

None the less, he decided to to try to joke around a bit. These do seem to be close friends to John, after all.

A simple turtle: shamed,,,,in my own home

A simple turtle: you are the fakest friends ive ever had

Macaroni Man: okay real talk wtf john

Jem Jamer: im gonna have to come over sooner to make sure that john hasnt been kidnapped and we're speaking to the kidnapper

A simple turtle: smh

A simple turtle: im gonna go get ready

Alexander put the phone down then, standing up and walking to the bathroom. He was still in pajamas and he needed to pull his (John's?) hair back, since it kept falling in his face and in almost all the pictures he saw, John's hair was pulled into a neat ponytail. Plus, he needed to brush and his teeth and all.

Upon getting through with brushing his teeth and attempting to his John's hair into some kind of neatness, he walked to the dresser in the other corner of the bedroom. He dug through for a bit before settling on a band shirt and jeans, and he walked to the bathroom again. However, there he was faced with one of his biggest challenges yet.

He had to get naked. In a stranger's body. he was going to see John, still a total stranger who he's really never met before, naked. Even if he would totally flirt with John if they had met while in their own bodies, he still feels a bit weird about undressing. He let out a huff of air and put his face in his hands. This was too damn much and too damn stressful for one person to handle in one day.

Deciding that he has to get dressed eventually if he's going to go out with John's friends, he turns away from the mirror and averts his eyes as much as he can until he is in clothes once again. The thought of what he did still makes him feel a bit slimy, but now he's clothed and just about ready to go.

He tossed the pajamas into the hamper and went back over to the bed, checking the group messages and seeing that there's nothing besides a few 'okays' to his mention of going to get ready. He isn't sure if that's really a good thing or not, seeing as he doesn't know how the group usually operates. It would've been so much easier if he knew more about them.

If he had switched bodies with someone he actually knew, then he'd be able to know how to act, at least a little bit. But no, he had to switch bodies with cute John from South Carolina that apparently doesn't use words like 'my dude'.

He could only hope that John was going through this shit too.

He kept going through John's phone for about forty five minutes when he got a message from the person Thomas (Macaroni Man) referred to as 'Jemmy'. It said that he'd be there in about five minutes, and to be waiting because Jemmy didn't want to deal with 'the dragon'.

"Well, that's not ominous and scary..." He muttered to himself as he stood and pushed the phone into his back pocket, as well as walking over to grab the wallet on the dresser. If he's going to the mall, he should probably have that.

He hummed a soft tune as he walked out of the bedroom and looked both ways down the hall, spotting what he assumed were the stairs. He walked to them, hearing a few noises behind the closed doors in the hall. He really is going to have to deal with the whole family side of this soon, besides having a conversation with a sister through the door. And, he didn't even want to think about how he was going to have to explain why he suddenly was feeling better from the excuse he gave earlier.

Alexander had gotten down the stairs and grinned to himself, seeing a direct line to the door. Easy as all hell, in his opinion. He confidently started to walk towards the door, not noticing how the soft conversation in the parlor stopped, or how tense the air had gotten. At least, not until...

"Jack! Where are you going?" A man's voice asked from the room next to him.

Alexander stopped dead, slowly turning on his heel and looking towards the doorway into the parlor.

Inside there was a man sitting on a chair that probably cost more than Alexander's entire room at home, reading a newspaper. Or rather, glaring at him over the newspaper. On the small couch sat a girl, not really too horribly young, but still not as old as him. She seemed confused, staring at him like he hit his head.

"I'm going out with friends, why?" Alexander was used to a certain amount of respect at this point in his life. George and Martha both understand that he's almost a legal adult, that he needs to have some freedom and if they're going to have a happy house, then they need mutual trust. He hasn't ever broken the 12 am curfew, without calling them about why first. And they don't question his comings and goings, at least not like this. They'll show interest, but not act like he's breaking out of prison or something. He felt rather insulted by how he was spoken to, and he didn't hide it. He scowled at the man in the chair (presumably John's father) and crossed his arms, taking up a defiant stance.

"Don't take that tone with me, Jack. It was a fair question. I'm your father, I have a right to know where you're going." The man shook his head. "And when were you planning on telling me where you were going?"

Alexander was even more offended. Christ, it was like he had to submit a form before going anywhere. He had only been in this situation for five damn minutes and he was annoyed.

"I'm telling you right now, god damn. Calm down about it."

The girl, who had been sitting quietly on the couch, let out a small, soft gasp at his words. She seemed shocked, trying to convey 'what the hell is your problem' with just her eyes. The man got a dark cloud around him, and his glare was trying to tear a hole through Alexander.

"Jack. We will be talking about that attitude you just took with me later on. I want you back no later than five o'clock. Any later and your punishment for talking back like that will be even worse. Get out of here, now."

Alexander didn't need to be told twice. He was quick to all but run away, getting to the front door and hearing a soft mumble of 'what the hell has gotten into him today?' as he closed the door.

Outside, he was met with some of the nicest, warmest weather he had felt this time of year since moving from the Caribbean to New York when he was younger. The bright sun seemed to soak into his skin, and those birds he had noticed before were even louder outside. He closed his eyes for just a moment, enjoying the warmth and pleasant breeze before walking down to the bottom step and sitting down. Jemmy should be here soon, if the text was anything to go off of.

Looking around the neighborhood confirmed his suspicions about John being a rich motherfucker. Every house he could see up and down the block was just as ritzy and fancy as the one he had just come out of. All of them were big too, some of them having many cars in one driveway, clearly put there just to show off. He rolled his eyes. Rich people were always absolutely wild. He is always amazed that Lafayette never seemed to act like such a pompous dick, despite being filthy rich.

He didn't have to wait long, and didn't get much time to ponder on the oddities of rich people when a car pulled up in the driveway. Jemmy, he presumed. Based on the care, he could also assume that Jemmy was just as rich as John was. It was a fancy, large car that he wasn't sure if an entire lifetime of working could get him enough money for. None the less, he stood up and walked to it like he was used to seeing such wealth in day to day activities.

Not to say that he wasn't well off with Martha and George, but neither of them (even if they had it) felt the need to show off wealth like this.

He got into the backseat of the car, seeing as the passenger seat was occupied by someone already. He put on a grin and looked at the two people he recognized from many of the pictures he saw in John's phone, and assumed that the one driving is Jemmy, and the one in the passenger seat is Thomas.

"What's up guys?" He said, buckling in and being glad to be further and further away from the promised punishment.

"Christ, you're talking weird today, John." Thomas said, shaking his head and pausing the music. "You don't seem to have been kidnapped though, so at least me and James don't have to go Taken on your rich kid ass."

"Like you're not disgustingly rich, Thomas." The boy he now knows as James, not Jemmy, says. He decides to go big or go home, and participate in conversation as much as possible.

"We're all disgustingly rich, please gentlemen." He joked, leaning back into a more comfortable position. "So, where we heading?"

Alexander and his friends would normally spend a day together doing a few things. Going to the park if it's nice enough, because everyone seems content to be wasting valuable time playing frisbee and shit while he's thinking of the next essay to be assigned. If they weren't at the park for whatever reason, sometimes they'd go to whatever museum suited their fancy that day. It didn't really matter that they had seen the same places over and over again, they always felt so fresh and new when they would go each time. And sometimes there was cool, new exhibits to look at. Lastly, if they didn't want to go terrorize a public place, they'd meet up at someone's house and hang out there. Often times, that is what ended up happening.

"The mall, of course." Thomas replied, looking back at him again and giving a smile. Alexander felt like there was something distinctly familiar about him. Not just the fact that he kind of looks like Laf. Something else, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Eh, it'll come to him eventually.

The rest of the car ride was chattering between the two in the front seat, both of them bickering akin to an old married couple about various things and sometimes asking him for his opinion. Of course, he gave his full opinion on every subject, just like he would do in his normal body with his normal friends.

Neither of them seemed at all bothered by this either, and he found himself very glad that John has some cool friends. He begins to think that, once he's back in his own body, he'll have to try to contact John again. After all, they seem to be pretty like minded in a lot of things.

Once they arrived at the mall, it was actually pretty fun. There were even times when he could forget about the fact that he was with two, relative strangers and in another stranger's body, and just have fun with friends. He got along pretty well with them for the most part (thank god no one was giving a lot of opinions, at the moment) and they could have a pretty good time. That is, until someone had to open their fucking mouth.

They were walking around the mall as they had been for about an hour when they passed someone, standing up on a slight box, preaching about the dangers and disgust of homosexuality. Now, James and Thomas both rolled their eyes and kept walking, but Alexander felt anger rising in him. Not only was what the guy saying completely and utterly bigoted, but also completely and utterly wrong. So, with narrowed eyes and a determined posture, Alexander stormed towards the man preaching.

"And just who the fuck asked you on your wrong opinion about homosexuality. Ever heard the phrase 'don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all'? Huh, dickbag? If you've got something to fucking say, say it to me right now instead of hiding behind misinterpretations of the bible. Come on, do it. I dare you, you pompous bag of stupid.”

A hush fell over the crowd as he stood defiantly against the man on the box, his head held high as he waited for the flabbergasted man to give a response. He could feel a few different gazes settled on him now that the words had registered with everyone around him. A few amazed, as if no one had ever stood up to this dickbag, some confused, some just interested to see drama happening in the local, sleepy mall. But, most of all, he felt heated, hate filled gazes on him, and if he wasn’t so used to getting those, he might’ve backed down. However, it was James and Thomas stepping forward and pulling him away that would keep him from getting closer and more up in the preacher’s face about a proper response.

The trio walked in silence out of the mall and back towards the car, and he started to feel guilt and apprehension welling up inside of him. What if he had just messed something up with John? What if he had just made the poor guy lose two, close friends? He is pretty sure that would rank up there with ‘shitty things you can do to a person that you’ve never met that lives thousands of miles away from you’. 

However, once he got into the car with James and Thomas, he knew that at least one of those worries was unfounded.

As soon as the door was closed, James put his head in his hands and started off with a small giggle. Soon enough, that had turned into Thomas and him giggling as well. In the course of just a few seconds, they were all absolutely losing it, gasping for breath with tears in their eyes.  
“J-Jesus CHRIST John. You….You fuckin…” Thomas started, though he was unable to finish due to another fit of laughter at the thought of what happened back in the mall.

“Dickbag! You called him a dickbag! Right there in front of everyone!” James nearly shouted, though based on the interactions that Alexander had with the other teen, a slightly raised voice could be counted as a shout.

“Did you like, take an extra scoop of wild gay oats today, because that was some of the best shit I’ve seen happen in this damn town for ages, John. You’ve gotta do that again.” Thomas said, beginning to compose himself after several minutes of laughter.

Alexander just smiled at these people that he hopes to be able to call his friends by the end of all of this, and he shook his head. “I guess I just got fed up? I don’t like hearing people talk like that about any group.” 

James had begun to drive now, pulling out of the parking lot and away from the mall in general. 

“I mean, none of us do. But you tore into him, John. You usually only act like that when we’re all alone, not in front of the whole mall.” James’ voice was back to a soft tone, though it still managed to carry all throughout the large car.

The car fell into a comfortable silence then, all of them thinking over the events of the mall in their own way. Alexander was trying to decide if he had done something wrong or not, in how he called that preacher out. He hoped that this wouldn’t get back to John’s father, he doesn’t think that would go over very well, even after just the small amount that he had seen of the man.

Thinking of John’s father, he started to think about how he had acted earlier, and how he might be in for something bad when James dropped him off again. Of course, he could venture to tell Thomas and James why he probably shouldn’t go back home, about why they probably have reasons to contact CPS or something, but he wasn’t sure if that is what John wanted. He really wouldn’t want to do something so drastic without having some way to figure out if it would be alright with the person who’s life he would be effecting. Shaking the thoughts out of his head, he realized that they had pulled up to the house.

“See you guys later, then.” He said, opening the car door and getting out to the sound of teasing about his use of ‘you guys’ and soft goodbyes from both of them, and the car had driven off. He found himself facing the tall, looming house, seeming impossible to enter at the promise of what might be inside. The distant rumble of thunder was enough to urge him inside, though, and the entire house felt frigid and as silent as a tomb. He heard a calling of John’s name, or the family nickname that everyone in the house seemed to refer to him as, and he walked to the stairs, where he heard the voice come from 

It was then that he realized what James meant about ‘the dragon’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll see how Laurens is fairing in Alexander's body, and figure out why Jefferson is so familiar to Alexander.


	4. Chapter Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back at Laurens' POV! In this chapter we take a look into the Hamilfam group chat, and John speaks to Martha and George after making a small miscalculation about Hamilton's relationship with his pseudo parents
> 
> Group Chat Name Key: mynameisadotham=Hamilton/Laurens, smercules smulligain=Mulligan, mr. smurr, surr= Burr, snickers satisfies= Angelica, nicelegsredlipsmakesamango= Maria, laffybae= Lafayette, best of memes and best of weapons= Eliza, homebyesundown= Peggy

There are certain moments in life where things just seem too outrageous to be real. Things that would make you scoff and roll your eyes if someone told you that it happened. Things that seem more likely to happen in an idealistic work of fiction rather than real life.

John just never thought something like that would happen to _him._

After backing out of what looked to be a hellscape of messages on Skype, he looked through the other apps on the phone. It wasn’t exactly something he was comfortable with. Invading another person’s privacy like this left an uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind, but it wasn’t like he could go around pretending to be this ‘Alexander’ person if he had no idea what the guy was like.

The first thing he realized was that Alexander wrote. A lot. Wrote like someone who was running out of space in his head for thoughts and the only way to continue to function was to get those thoughts out.

One of the most prominent testaments to that was the sheer amount of note taking apps on the phone. Each of them was filled up with notes of different kinds, ranging from short sentences to full paragraphs in the different documents. He didn’t want to go through much of them, but it did give one hell of an indicator to Alexander’s personality. 

Another sign pointing to the large amounts that Alexander writes is the most recent tweet on Alexander’s twitter feed.

_‘So, as you would be able to clearly see if you could get your head out of your ass, youre wrong (12/12)’_

“My god.” John whispered to himself as he scrolled through the feed, but not because of the copious amounts of tweets and what seems to be the lack of ability to shut up. It was who Alexander has turned out to be.

It’s not like he had stalked the dude’s twitter or anything, but when you hear about someone almost on the daily from a close friend, you get a sense of who they are. Or, who said close friend perceives them to be. 

As if John’s day hadn’t already been wild enough, he happened to wake up in the body of @AdotHam.

Normally, he wouldn’t give so much of a fuck about this guy’s twitter. It probably wouldn’t give him a whole lot of the quick knowledge he wanted to know to survive the day, or however long he would be in this body. But this is @AdotHam. The one getting in twitter fights with Jefferson on the daily. The one that has threatened to ‘come down to whatever backwater shithole’ Jefferson lives in and ‘stick my entire foot up your ass’. In his small circle of friends, that’s...kind of a big deal. Not a lot happens in his town, after all.

It took a few minutes to actually realize the power that he had. He could completely and utterly destroy Hamilton, if he wanted. It was an odd feeling, one of the many odd feelings he had been having that morning. It would be easy to absolutely ruin the guy.

After all, he had Hamilton’s face, and voice, and phone and room and life. He could have taken pictures, made fake tweets, done awful things and it would have never come back to him. He’d go back to his own life, and he wouldn’t ever deal with repercussions for what he did. 

John shook his head and closed his eyes for a moment, refocusing. 

_‘No, we’re not going to do any of that because we’re not awful, got it?’_ he thought to himself, and then closed out the twitter app. No need spending any more time on an app that gave him thoughts like that.

Instead, he ventured back to Skype.

Skype was different than Twitter. John knew that from his own experience. His own Twitter would paint him to be a bit of a snob, and absolutely not caring about any of the things he’s truly passionate about. He wouldn’t want to be around the person he projected as to being on Twitter. However, his Skype was personal. It was him interacting privately with his friends. People that knew him and it was safe for them to be them and him to be him. He didn’t have to act like such a goddamn tool on Skype, he could be himself.

Alexander’s Skype was no different.

It seemed like Alexander was a pretty popular person. Missed messages from various private chats, from ‘best of memes and best of weapons’ to ‘smercules smulligain’. The messages are all, mainly, asking where Alexander is.

Now, John was planning on ignoring the messages, just going through to find out more about how he should act if he were to come across one of these people. After all, pictures that Jefferson had shown him on Twitter had lead him to believe that most, if not all, of these people live close enough to meet up on the regular. However, he didn’t want to invite in any trouble by ignoring everyone. So, he made a poor choice.

He went into the group chat.

For someone only used to the smaller, three person group he is usually in, being in a chat with eight people is a bit of a trip. The sort of trip that he wasn’t prepared for. The sort of trip that is akin to Jefferson throwing rocks at his window one night and yelling ‘road trip’ up at him when he finally opened it. That kind of trip.

[mynameisadotham]: hello

[smercules smulligain]: HE LIVES

[mr. smurr, surr]: Awful 

[snickers satisfies]: here i was,,ready to steal your fortune, squad, and girl 

[nicelegsredlipsmakesamango] that implies that hamilton can get a girl, angelica 

[laffybae] how you say, shots fired 

[mynameisadotham]: n’yall stop roasting me jesus didnt die for this

[smercules smuggliain]: N’YALL

[laffybae]: N’YALL

[snickers satisfies] N’ Y A L L 

[best of memes and best of weapons] this is by far the messiest thing ive ever seen in this chat

[mr. smurr, surr]: i like the implication that jesus has ever done anything for hamilton

[laffybae] tag urself im burr coming in with the roast

John took a moment to stare down at the phone, feeling like kicking himself for what just happened. He shouldn’t have tried to act like that, he shouldn’t have tried to be himself. Because he isn’t himself. He’s Alexander. Alexander that lives in New York and clearly does not use the term ‘n’yall’ when speaking with his friends. However, he’s absolutely sure it would be worse if he just didn’t respond after all of that, so he put his fingers back to the keyboard.

[mynameisadotham]: anyway, why were you all trying to hmu

[best of memes and best of weapons]: its nearly 9am and you werent awake

[nicelegsredlipsmakesamango]: we were roasting jefferson earlier and you werent getting in on it

[laffybae]: we thought you had died, alexander.  
[mynameisadotham]: sorry i was?? Sleeping 

[snickers satisfies]: but you dont sleep you just write

[smercules smulligain]: “i run on coffee and hate” -mynameisadotham

[mr. smurr, surr]: when you do sleep its never past 7am

[nicelegsredlipsmakesamango]: even after that surgery you were up by 7

[best of memes and best of weapons]: fuck tru that was wild

[mynameisadotham]: well, im up now?

[laffybae]: how do we know this is even the real alexander

[laffybae]: and not 1) an alien 2) a werewolf or 3) the government finally got tired of alexander’s shit and took him out and replaced him with a clone

[mr. smurr, surr]: will clone hamilton be less obnoxious 

[snickers satisfies] probably not

[mynameisadotham] wow

[mynameisadotham] Rude, Immature, and Childish 

[homebyesundown]: are we not gonna talk about how hamilton has yet to say a full sentence like

[homebyesundown]: i know we’re mostly joking about the clone thing but it could be Legit right now

[homebyesundown]: quick someone shoot hamilton to see if clone goop comes out

[mr. smurr, surr]: I’ll do it

[smercules smulligain]: i think we should let jefferson do it

[mynameisadotham]: he wouldnt ever shoot anyone he doesnt have the guts

[laffybae]: at least clone hamilton can shit talk jefferson still

[nicelegsredlipmakesamango]: anyway, are we chilling 2day y/n

[nicelegsredlipsmakesamango]: i have cute new tights and lipstick from that new paycheck and i want to show them off

[homebyesundown]: NICE

[best of memes and best of weapons]: get it

[snickers satisfies] lmao im down for hanging out

[snickers satisfies]: im gonna be so gay for this

[laffybae]: im also, how you say in america,

[laffybae] in

[homebyesundown]: same

[smercules smulligain]: i gotta finish up this dress for e-liz but im in after that

[snickers satisfies]: thats fine if we’re gonna hang out im gonna need a minute to get myself out of bed its one of those days

[laffybae]: relatable

[best of memes and best of weapons]: aaron + ham are you 2 in 

[mr. smurr, surr]: sure

 

John took a moment to consider, then. On one hand, Hamilton would probably spend a Saturday hanging out with his friends. It would probably be strange if he said no. On top of the other strange things that he’s been doing with Hamilton’s name slapped on it, it might warrant a visit from one of the others. Which might warrant them sticking around to make sure he is okay. Which would lead to John fucking someone major up and he would be in deep shit then.

However, Hamilton seems like the type to use ‘no I’m writing’ as an excuse to get out of hanging out. Or, not so much ‘get out of it’ as actually writing. It was more than John could say for himself, that’s for sure. Does he really want to risk raising any more eyebrows, though?

[mynameisadotham]: lets goooo boiz

[smercules smulligain]: retweet if you cringed 

[best of memes and best of weapons]: rt

[snickers satisfies]: rt

[mr. smurr, surr]: rt

[homebyesundown]: rt

[laffybae]: rt

[nicelegsredipsmakesamango]: rt

[mynameisadotham] Rude, once again

[best of memes and best of weapons]: putting aside alex being Strange™, what are we doing today?

[laffybae]: parkparkparkparkparkparkpark

[smercules smulligain]: something tells me that we’re going to the park

[nicelegsredipsmakesamango]: greasy take out food picnic in the park?

[smercules smulligain]: i love you all so much this sounds great

[mynameisadotham]: which park?? Lmao

[snickers satisfies]: THE park alex

[homebyesundown]: this is Fake when i asked which park alex made fun of me

[mynameisadotham]: there is lots of parks please

[best of memes and best of weapons]: ill just come pick you up i want to see your cat anyway

[best of memes and best of weapons]: and i want Martha 2 do my hair

[nicelegsredlipsmakesamango]: eliza is gonna steal that cat one day

[best of memes and best of weapons]: maybe then hamilton will finally be Mine,,,,

 

John was about to continue with the surprisingly fun conversation when he heard his name being called from downstairs. Well, not his name per say, but Alexander’s name. He might as well get used to responding to it, if this whole mind switch was going to last for much longer.

Knowing better than to ignore it, he stood up and left his phone on the bed before walking the same path he walked just a little bit ago. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he sees the woman from before. She’s standing at the bottom of the stairs and smiling a warm smile up at him, one that he isn’t used to from adults in his life.

“Alexander! Breakfast is just about ready, come on down.” She said before walking back out of John’s line of sight. Still not completely steady in this new body, he clutched the railing while going down the stairs, not letting his white knuckled grip ease up until he was safe on the first floor of the house.

He slowly walked through a few rooms, following the sound of voices until he reaches what looks to be both the kitchen and the dining room. Or at least, a kitchen big enough to have a breakfast nook in it. Not being one unused to wealth, he walked over to where there were glasses of juice and plates set up and sat down. He had all but forgotten the incident before with these two, and he hardly even noticed the silence that settled in when he entered the room.

Just as he was not unused to wealth, he wasn’t unused to a silent house either.

After a few more beats of silence in the room, along with what seemed to have been some silent communication between the couple, the woman spoke again.

“Sleep well, Alexander?” She asked in a cheerful tone, carrying over a mug of coffee and placing it in front of him. John almost forgot to respond for a second, a combination of not being used to being ‘Alexander’ and not being used to adults actually caring about him.

“Yes ma’am.” He kept the reply short and respectful, like he was brought up to in his own house. 

The respectful tone, however, was met with twin, strange glances from the two adults, then laughter. 

“Where did the formality come from, son?” The man asked, shaking his head fondly and then turning his back to Alexander. “It’s just us, there’s no need for all of that.” 

John mulled this over, then tried for a smile. 

“Sorry, dad. Just having an off day, I guess. Everything is just-” He cut himself off when there was the loud sound of a fork clattering down onto the counter, and this time the looks he got were more of disbelief.

The events of earlier that morning swept back through his mind like a sandstorm, and he suddenly and very clearly remembered what happened. Him calling the man ‘dad’, the looks (not unlike the ones he was receiving once again), and the whisper from the woman. Rather abruptly, he come to the conclusion that Alexander did not refer to these people in the way that people would typically refer to their parents as.

The woman (possibly the ‘Martha’ that ‘best of memes and best of weapons’ was referring to before) walked over to him, not unlike someone would approach a forest animal they weren’t trying to startle, and sat down on the chair closest to him. She gently placed her hand on his, and gave one of the kindest smiles John had ever seen in his life.

“Alexander?” She started, her voice somewhat hushed. “I’m not sure what’s happened to make you want to take the step of calling George your father, but just know that we,” The woman paused then, as the man (George, he now knows) came to stand behind the chair she was sitting in. “Are very, very happy to be your parents.” Once she finished with the last word, John could’ve sworn that she had tears in her eyes.

“I...yeah. Thanks mom.” The words were awkward even to his own ears, but they seemed enough for the woman to pull him into a tight hug, not seeming to care about the table edge jabbing into both of their sides during the hug. 

Then, as quickly as it had all happened, the entire room seemed to go into motion again, a familiar pace that even an outsider to everything about this family like John could get lost in the familiarity of it.

He was soon standing up and putting what appealed to him on the plate he was handed, and he got a bit lost in his thoughts.

Would his tastes remain the same? Sure, he might hate eggs with a fiery passion, but would they taste okay as long as he was in Alexander’s body, with Alexander’s tastebuds? He made sure to file that away in the ‘things to try out when Alexander’s family isn’t around’ section of his brain, then settled down to eat.

Once they were all settled down at the table, John was ready to bow his head for Grace, but neither of the other two seemed to stop to consider it, so he gratefully dug into the food.

“Any plans today, Alex?” George asked, looking across the small table at him. He smiled a bit, feeling more engaged with these total strangers than he has in a while.

A small voice in the back of his mind whispered to him then, asking if it would be too horrible to have to stay in this body. After all, he had friends, family, and acceptance. He wouldn’t have to worry about his father or his town or anything ever again, he could just...live like this. For the second time that morning, he had to shake the bad thoughts out of his head. _‘No John Laurens, you are absolutely NOT going to be a body snatcher just because this guy has a better life than you’._

Realizing that he had yet to answer the question, he swallowed his bite of food before responding.

“Yeah! I’m going to the park with everyone. I think we’re going to pick up lunch on the way?” He supplied, thinking through the entire conversation and realizing that he really didn’t know much about what they were doing. Or their names or looks or personalities or beliefs and suddenly deciding not to stay in and figure out more was seeming like a mistake.

“Sounds like fun! Anything else going on?” Martha asked, and John was hit with a realization that this is how good parents inquire after what is going on in a child’s life. Not by demanding, but by asking and being happy and supportive about what they hear. It gave him a moment of longing for staying in this life again, but he didn’t let himself go down that rabbit hole again.

John then had to deal with the next issue. He had no idea who the people in the group chat were. It wasn’t like he could say ‘oh yeah, nicelegsredlipsmakesamango has new leggings and lipstick from her new pay check that she wants to show us’. Instead, he found a happy medium.

“Same old same old. New clothes, I think? We mostly just talked about the park today, though.” He said with a shrug, then focused back on eating his food.

The rest of breakfast was spent with Martha(?) and George talking, and as soon as he finished his plate he waited for a lull in conversation to ask to be excused.

“Liz is gonna come pick me up, I need to go get ready. If that’s okay?” The last part was tacked on as an afterthought, some of his normal home life attitude slipping in after he realized that, in some way, they could get angry with him for being rude.

However, they both just smiled and gave him the go ahead, so he took his plate and glass and returned them to the sink (he wasn’t raised to leave plates on the table, after all), then followed the footpath that was starting to be somewhat familiar to Alexander’s room. The door was gently shut behind him and locked, then he observed the room with the gaze of a man on a mission.

“Time to go to the park.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gonna be honest i dont really have a reason for this to be so late other than getting distracted by other things! but now its here, and ill try to be more consistent with updates
> 
> Want to talk about this fic or others? Have a question? Just want to talk? Here's my tumblr!


	5. To Be Deleted

Hello! It's been a while since I've updated this, but I thought I'd give an update! As of the day of publishing this chapter, I've started to work on the next one! Once I have that up, I'll delete this little update.

**Author's Note:**

> The next chapter will be from Laurens' POV


End file.
